


House Divided

by combeferrocious



Series: Ferrejolras Drabbles [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Karimloo!Ferre, M/M, Tveit!Jolras, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combeferrocious/pseuds/combeferrocious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble in honor of the World Cup. </p>
<p>To understand this fic, you have to know that Combeferre's face claim is Ramin Karimloo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Divided

It was approximately 10 in the morning, as Combeferre walked down the stairs of his shared apartment. The game was to start any second, and he and Enjolras had yet to speak to each other. As he wandered into the living room, Enjolras sat at the other end of the couch, his attention focused on the screen. 

As soon as he caught sight of his partner, he quickly began to choke on his drink as he hacked all over the living room. Once he had composed himself, he stood up quickly. “Oh hell no.” He said, at the point where he was more than offended. 

Combeferre smiled back at him cheekily, the bright red of his Iran jersey sending an eerie glow around the quiet living room. He quickly jumped over the couch, as he watched the players walk onto the field. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Enjolras said, still standing in the same spot. 

Combeferre leaned up to grab his hand, pulling him onto the couch. He leaned over to pat his cheek before pulling him in for a kiss. "Pulled this out of the closet for this special occasion.” The taller man said.

Enjolras looked at him, still in disbelief. “How can you do this to France?” He said, the complete betrayal clear in his voice. 

“Julien, I am literally from Iran.” Combeferre said, as the shouts of the game captured his attention. “It’s okay though, France is going to get their asses kicked with or without me.” 

His words clearly seemed to snap Enjolras back into reality. “You ready to bet on that, Vegas?” He said, his signature cheeky smirk beginning to light up his face. 

Combeferre snorted, before turning to look at him. “Absolutely. What do you propose Julien Enjolras?” 

The blond grinned at his husband wickedly, before both of their attentions were turned back to the television. When the game was over Enjolras was ready to throw himself off the balcony. As Combeferre ran around the room hollering, the blond had his face shoved into a couch cushion letting out long groans. 

“I can’t believe they lost.” He said, his face still hidden.

Combeferre stopped suddenly in his tracks, as he remembered exactly what their bet has entailed. Crawling over to him slowly, he placed his legs on either side of Enjolras' body. The latter's face was still shoved into the cushion. Combeferre kissed the back of his neck slowly, as Enjolras immediately turned over underneath him. 

“I can make you do whatever I want.” The medical student stated, a suggestive smile growing on his lips. 

Leaning down, he kissed his husband's lips slowly and passionately, before pulling away, still biting on his lower lip. Enjolras let out a long groan at the loss of contact, his eyes wide as he tried to hide his excitement. Sitting up, Combeferre slowly pulled his own jersey over his head, before quickly dropping it on Enjolras' head and standing up cackling. 

“You get to wear that jersey for the rest of the day.” 

Enjolras whipped the jersey off his head, before standing up to send daggers in Combeferre's direction. He was mumbling, while he changed his shirt, before sending a long and pathetic sigh in his lover's direction. “Happy?” He growled.

Combeferre walked over and kissed his temple. "Very." He replied.


End file.
